


A River of Light Between

by coyotesuspect



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:35:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8942074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyotesuspect/pseuds/coyotesuspect
Summary: After crash landing on an unfamiliar planet, Keith and Shiro venture out to collect needed supplies for the castle. When they meet the local inhabitants, some confusion results.Written and set between the end of season 1 and beginning of season 2.





	

From the castle, all Keith can see are tall red trees. The forest looks like a children’s drawing, colored in vivid scarlet and maroon and a maybe-orange maybe-pink that Hunk and Lance are already arguing about. Keith tunes them out (it’s clearly orange) and makes himself focus, looking for movement in the wall of trees. But if anything is stirring in those red shadows, they’re too distant or too hidden to see. 

Keith feels a deep unease drift up inside him. The castle is barely functional, fresh from the wormhole and precariously perched on what little bare ground they were able to navigate to once they broke through the atmosphere – a jut of craggy gray rock. He and Shiro had plummeted to the earth only seconds after the castle’s landing, and it had been the last gasp of both their Lions to get the machines inside. Anything that managed to follow them through the wormhole will find them easily. 

He searches the sky. Two moons hang ghost-pale just above the tree line, one larger and crescent, the smaller one an oblong thumbprint. The white sun is a hard, bright disc high above them. He sees no sign of being followed. But, he reminds himself, Zarkon and his allies have the luxury of taking their time. 

There’s still no movement from the trees. He turns. 

“When are we leaving?” 

“Well, that depends.” Coran pokes his head from behind a control panel. With Allura returned, he’s resumed his usual, maddening, manic-calm. “We’ll need to make some repairs to the castle and the Lions. Allura and I can handle the castle. But we’re also all out of diranium. And we can’t get our nebulon boosters to work without it!” 

Coran disappears behind the control panel and then he pops up again, waving a sensor in Keith’s direction.

“Thankfully, there seems to be some nearby. And it’s not nearly as hard to acquire as a Balmeran crystal.” 

“Great. I’ll go,” says Keith immediately. 

“I’ll go, too,” says Shiro. “Pidge, Lance – guard the castle. Hunk, can you take a look at the Lions?”

The other three nod, and immediately return to their argument. Pidge has been sucked in, too. Keith hears, “Okay, but, objectively, going off their wavelengths – “ before he tunes the argument back out. Shiro catches his eye and smiles slightly, just quick enough and faint enough that only Keith catches it. 

Keith looks away quickly. It feels stange to just be standing there, calm and normal, after the fight. The adrenaline has left him light-headed and tense. It’s going to be hard to focus, hard to calm down, if it’s just him and Shiro. 

But he says nothing, and a few minutes later, they’re both suited up and headed out of the castle. The slope is steep, and it’s hot, careful work to navigate their way down the rock beneath what Keith assumes is a midday sun. It suits Keith fine to concentrate on not falling on his ass. He keeps waiting for Shiro to say something – to scold Keith for going after him, for not keeping to the plan, for taking on Zarkon alone. For almost dying. 

But Shiro just seems just as intent on working his way down. Keith glances at him, and Shiro doesn’t look up. Keith doesn’t know what happened to him inside Galra command, but he has a vague memory of voices coming across his comm – Hunk and Allura going after Shiro.

Whatever happened, they got to Shiro in time for Shiro to save Keith. 

The rock stops abruptly at the forest’s edge. The sensor lights up a little brighter, the little arrow on the screen waving them on. Keith eyes the forest warily. He doesn’t like being where you can’t see the horizon, and the trees are vine-covered and grouped densely together, the ground littered with stumps and logs. There’s not even a path, and wherever there’s enough of a gap in the canopy for sunlight to reach the floor, young trees have sprung up, half Keith’s height and fighting for space.

Shiro touches his arm – just two fingers against the back of his arm, through his glove and Keith’s armor, but, still, it jolts him – and leans forward. 

“Ready when you are,” he says, and he strides in. 

Keith follows him without hesitation. The ground is springy and faintly damp. Leaves crackle and shift beneath his feet. He steps on a stick and winces as it snaps with an echoing loudness. The light that filters down through the trees is bloody. It washes Shiro’s face red like the light of an ending day.

“Which way now?”

Keith looks down at the sensor, thankful to have something distract him from staring at Shiro. They haven’t spent much time alone together since Shiro’s return – since everything that’s happened. There hasn’t been time. 

And maybe Keith has been avoiding Shiro a little, grateful to have him back, scared to frighten him away. 

“Uh, this way,” he says. 

He walks in the direction indicated by the sensor. Shiro follows closely, a solid, silent, half-comforting, half-alarming presence at Keith’s side. The forest is much cooler than the bare rock they first walked on. A breeze ruffles past them, fresh and pleasant and bringing with it the rich, clean smell of the earth and a spicy, sharp smell that must be the trees. Keith sneezes and feels his sweat drying on the back of his neck. 

“Reminds me of where I grew up,” says Shiro, after a moment. 

Keith raises his eyebrows at him. Shiro looks far away, eyes dim with memory. 

“Yeah?” he prompts. 

He knows a little of Shiro’s past. They were friends for a long time before Shiro’s disappearance. He knows Shiro grew up with loving parents, competitive but supportive older siblings, a yard with a dog in it. 

Shiro shrugs. 

“Our house backed onto a woods – a forest preserve, I think.” He smiles. “We always had deer eating my dad’s garden.” 

Keith nods. Even with Shiro, he’s bad at conversation. He’s never sure what to say to prompt more. He wants to hear more. 

Shiro rubs his jaw. “That was a long time ago. My parents moved a couple years after I joined the Garrison. They wanted a smaller place once everyone was out of the house.” 

Shiro lapses back into silence. Keith can tell that Shiro’s mind is on home, on his family. His family who must still think he’s dead. He wonders if Shiro has thought about that, and then feels immediately stupid for thinking that. Of course Shiro has thought about that. 

He didn’t go to Shiro’s funeral. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. But he saw clips of it anyway, on accident. He had still been at the Garrison and the news coverage had been inescapable, suffocating. Keith’s memories of that time are a kaleidoscope of disconnected images and emotions. But he remembers a clip of Shiro’s black-clad mother, a tall and striking woman, buckling in front of and catching herself on her son’s empty coffin. 

Someone next to him had laughed at the fall. Not, Keith thinks, in retrospect, out of callousness, but a kind of uncontrollable human response. But Keith had turned and swung anyway. He doesn’t remember the rest of the fight. 

Shiro hasn’t asked about his family. Keith understands. It’s hard enough having the weight of the universe to save on your shoulders, without adding a grief-stricken family who misses you and thinks you’re dead on top of it. 

Of course, Keith can’t quite empathize. There’s no one on Earth who misses him, and the only person he's ever missed is standing right next to him. 

They keep walking. 

It’s not _bad_ , once you get past the weirdness of the new world. Birds flash from tree to tree, beating a double set of wings, their song harsh and atonal. Toadstools in poisonous orange and violet climb the trunks of some of the trees. It makes Keith’s eyes and head hurt a little, like he’s watching a screen and the coloring is all wrong. He keeps having to glance at Shiro to ground himself. 

But still. It’s not bad. Overall, he thinks he’s done a good job of adjusting to the alienness and absurdity of his life now. Shiro’s alive and they have a universe to save. Everything else is irrelevant. It’s not like how things were in the desert, when his compulsion was the only thing greater than his grief. Even with the Galra Empire hanging over their heads, he can enjoy this. He’s allowed to enjoy this. 

“You don’t think that’s some kind of warning system?” asks Shiro, head cocked, listening to the birds. 

Keith stops and listens more. It still just sounds like birds. Ugly birds. 

“You’re getting paranoid in your old age,” he says. 

“I am, but it’s about time I learned.” 

Shiro smiles. It’s meant as a joke, but Keith finds it hard to laugh. He doesn’t want Shiro to be more paranoid. Shiro’s lost more than his arm and a year of his life. Keith doesn’t know how to give any of those parts back to him. 

They walk on, but the silence has been cracked again, and, broken, it’s easier to break once more. Keith hears the hesitation in Shiro’s voice before he speaks and he tenses. Shiro is rarely hesitant, even when dealing with Keith. Keith doesn’t want to know what path Shiro’s mind has taken since he brought up his family. 

“I never asked – why did you leave the Garrison?” 

Keith breathes out evenly and tries to make his voice as neutral as possible when he answers. 

“They kicked me out. I didn’t like the new simulation.” 

Shiro looks at him curiously. Keith stares at the sensor and fiddles with it uselessly. His tether to the Garrison had always been weak. He never felt that he particularly needed it for survival, and with Shiro gone, there had been no one’s disappointment he had dreaded. Even before the new simulation, there had been no reason to stay. 

But the simulation had been the last straw. There was no way Shiro had been responsible for the crash on Kerberos. It was insulting to imply the future potato haulers that made up most of the piloting cadets could do better. So he’d taken a pole from the weight room in the training gym, and then taken that pole to the simulator. It hadn’t been very effective, but he hadn’t had the mental reserves to find a weapon that could do real damage. 

The next day, the simulator was fixed, and Keith was expelled. 

He can’t explain this to Shiro. He flexes and clenches his hands. 

“Keith,” says Shiro. He grips Keith’s shoulders and turns him to look at him. 

“That’s it,” he says. He tries to jerk Shiro’s hands off, but Shiro maintains contact. His eyes are intent; his mouth is set firmly. Shiro is good at compelling honesty. There’s a rightness in him that calls it forth, something about the straight back, the kind eyes. Shiro carries with him a vague and saintlike air of forgiveness. 

Keith’s had a lot of practice resisting it, though not always successfully.

“It’s not like they needed much more reason to kick me out,” he adds. Shiro is familiar with Keith’s long history of disciplinary infractions. He’s brought him too many icepacks over the years for Keith’s expulsion to be any surprise. He had to know that, after a year away, Keith might not be there when he came back. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” says Shiro, with all the calm, unceasing insistence of a force of nature, like the wind and water that, over millennia, carved out the rock of Keith’s desert. Despite Keith’s practice resisting, Shiro has never failed to carve him right open. 

But Keith can’t have this conversation. Not yet. Not yet. His grief and anger don’t sit far apart, and to have this conversation would be to summon both. He can’t unleash that confused tangle on Shiro. Shiro’s not responsible for anything that happened. 

“I know,” says Keith. He forces himself to look steadily back. The scar on Shiro’s face has changed some of his expressions. They’re tighter sometimes, the tension more visible in Shiro’s face. Keith reads hurt, now, and concern. Shiro’s always concerned nowadays. 

“We have other things to concentrate on now, anyway,” says Keith, and he pulls away from Shiro again. 

“Keith,” says Shiro, still calm. 

“ _What_?”

Keith turns on his heel to glare, and Shiro hugs him. It’s brief and awkward, and even Shiro seems surprised by it. But it’s _nice_ , too, to be held for a breath. Shiro lets go before Keith can pull away. 

They both stand there for a second. They don’t quite look at each other. The forest shifts quietly, muttering to itself

“I’m glad you’re okay,” says Shiro. 

Keith nods mutely, and then Shiro hesitates once more, before plunging in once again. He’s clearly on a mission to get Keith to open up. Keith wonders, vaguely, if he does this with all the Paladins – sharing and caring time – and feels a flash of jealousy even as he’s annoyed Shiro’s trying to share and care with him. 

“Can I ask you what happened back there? In the fight?” 

“What?” 

“You took on Zarkon. Alone.” 

“I went in after you!” says Keith, starting to feel heated. “Zarkon just showed up! I had a chance to end it!”

He remembers the sudden sweep of pure, crystallizing rage that had overcome him at the sight of Zarkon, how sure he felt in that moment, how white the world became at the edges. Red had never felt more connected to him. He would do it again. 

“You could have gotten killed!” 

Keith shouts with sudden fury. A small auburn-furred animal bursts from the undergrowth and scurries up a tree, fleeing the sudden noise. 

“I could get killed almost every day! We all could! I did think you were dead, Shiro! For a year!” 

Shiro flinches, and Keith feels a brief, grim satisfaction at having scored a point. 

Shiro recovers quickly. 

“That doesn’t mean there’s an excuse to be reckless.” 

“Did you just come along to lecture me?” he demands. “And you’re one to talk about being reckless! I didn’t – ” he pauses, ashamed – “I didn’t even think we should be there! That was _your decision_.” 

Shiro crosses his arms and deflects. 

“I’m worried about you.” 

The heat inside Keith bursts into full flame. Shiro never talks about what’s happened to him. He’s too busy making others open up, he never opens up to himself. And what happened to Shiro seems a hell of a lot more important than the fact that Keith was sad in the desert and gets pissed sometimes. 

“I’m worried about you, too! But I don’t bug you with a million questions about what happened to _you_!” 

Shiro’s mouth opens and then snaps shut. His jaw clenches. 

“What happened to me isn’t relevant,” he manages finally. 

“ _Not relevant –_ ” Keith starts to explode, and then he freezes. 

He hears a rustle from behind him and spins around, moving instinctively to keep himself in front of Shiro. From the shadows step two copper-colored aliens, each holding a spear. Neither he nor Shiro heard or spotted them until they got within twenty feet. 

Keith activates his sword. 

“Easy, Keith,” says Shiro. He places a gentle hand on Keith’s back and steps forward. It puts him between Keith and the aliens. 

The two aliens step back, clutching their spears tighter. Keith breathes a tiny sigh of relief, and he inspects them more closely. Both are short, but one is slightly taller, its copper skin mottled purple. They have long, thickly muscled arms and smooth, flat faces with bulging black eyes. Keith’s mind scrambles to find a relevant Earth counterpart and comes up with half-frog, half-chimpanzee. 

It’s Shiro who speaks first. He steps forward once more, his hands held flat in front of him. 

“We’re peaceful,” he tells them. “We need help.”

The two aliens look at each other and then past Shiro, at Keith’s sword. Shiro glances behind him and frowns when he sees the sword is still up. Keith lowers it slowly. But he doesn’t deactivate it. One of the aliens makes a short, barking noise that makes the hair on Keith’s arms stand. The alien is _laughing_. 

The shorter alien steps forward while his companion laughs. 

“I am Raddle,” he says. “And this is Qwortz. We are watchers of the Ryvian Forest. What aid is it you require, travelers?”

His eyes linger on Keith’s sword. 

Shiro steps back and wraps his hand around Keith’s elbow, to still Keith’s arm should he raise it. 

“My name is Shiro. This is Keith. Our ship is in need of repairs. We need, uh, diranium. Our sensor’s picked up some in this area.”

He sounds uncertain as to whether or not Raddle and Qwortz will have any idea what he’s referring to. Keith waves the sensor at them in a desultory fashion. They seem more concerned with the placement of Shiro’s hand than the sensor. Their eyes are focused on the contact. Keith guesses they’re concerned Shiro will let go and Keith will kill them. 

Raddle’s gaze flicks away from Shiro’s hand and returns to Shiro’s face. 

“We saw the large house fall from the sky. This is your…ship?”

“Yes.” 

Both Raddle and Qwortz nod firmly, as if this confirms a suspicion of theirs. Probably the suspicion that the strange creatures in their forest come from the strange building that fell from the sky.

“Then you are from the Goddess. You must speak with our Mother. She will know of your… diranium.” 

There’s a ringing intonation to “Mother” that makes Keith think it’s not their actual parent they’re referring to. 

“Uh,” says Shiro, with a quick glance at Keith. “Okay.” 

“We don’t have time for that!” hisses Keith. “Zarkon could be here any minute!” 

“Keith,” says Shiro in a warning tone. 

“Zarkon?” says Qwortz. 

“Someone you don’t want to meet,” says Keith, resentful. A part of him worries, as well, that they’ll bring Zarkon here, to this untouched planet, these strange, spear-wielding creatures. 

“Then we should… hurry, yes? We do not want an unwelcome guest,” says Raddle. 

That decided, Raddle turns and Qwortz turns with him. Without waiting to see if Keith and Shiro will follow, they head deeper into the forest. With a shrug at Keith, Shiro follows them. 

And Keith follows Shiro. 

As they walk, Keith starts to discern the hint of a path. He has to tilt his head back a little and the light has to catch the forest floor just right, but when it does, he can just make out the shimmer where the fallen leaves are slightly matted from the passage of creatures. Raddle and Qwortz move confidently, with a rolling, loping gait. Keith nearly has to jog to keep up. 

The trees get bigger as they walk and more spaced out, but the light doesn’t change from its crepuscular red. There’s little living but fungi on the forest floor, the rest covered in leaves and branches and rioting roots that they occasionally have to duck under where they’ve broken through the earth like a shark fin. Keith looks up. The canopy is hundreds of feet above them now. The trees don’t quite touch at the top, the spread of their leaves broken up by thin rivers of sky.

“Crown shyness,” says Shiro, following the line of Keith’s gaze. He grins. “I went with my mom to Kuala Lumpur once, for her work. There’s an institute there that has trees like this.” 

Keith doesn’t say anything. He grew up in foster homes in the dusty, water-poor towns that cluster around the Garrison. He’d never been anywhere before Voltron. 

They walk for another half hour before they stop. There doesn’t seem to be anything different about their surroundings. But – from the little Keith can read of Qwortz and Raddle’s expressions – they’ve reached their destination. 

Raddle grabs the vines climbing a particularly thick tree and begins swinging himself up. 

“What –” Keith looks up and nearly gasps. Stretching above and ahead of them is a town. Bridges crisscross the skyline at a dizzying height, and connecting platforms are built around the upper trunks of the trees. Figures pass over, but some avoid the bridges, choosing instead to leap from platform to platform or else grab vines and swing. Keith sees more platforms above the first layer; the town extends both vertically and horizontally. 

His sensor lights up brightly. The diranium is nearby, probably in the town.

“How are we going to get up there?” he asks. 

Qwortz seems to smile and lets out another of his chilling, barking laughs. “We have a basket we use for the sick and wounded. This you can use.” 

Keith snorts. 

“I can make it up myself.” 

“We can wait here,” says Shiro. He gives a gentle tug on Keith’s shoulder and smiles at him, amused. 

Keith sticks out his tongue. Shiro laughs, His hand lingers. Raddle and Qwortz share a mysterious look and then scamper up the tree, moving swiftly as they zigzag from vine to vine. Soon, a large basket is lowered to the forest floor. 

Shiro glances at Keith and shrugs, then climbs in. 

“I could have made it up,” grumbles Keith, climbing in, too. It’s cramped, but they have just enough space to both fit. 

“I know,” says Shiro. He settles on the floor of the basket and puts his arms along the edge. He tilts his head back, at ease. “But this is more relaxing.” 

“I guess,” says Keith. 

He looks furtively at Shiro, at his exposed throat and the line of his shoulders. The basket rocks gently as they’re drawn up, and a breeze cards through their hair. It’s a rare moment of peace. Keith allows himself to sink into it. He watches Shiro. It still amazes him, sometimes, to have Shiro back. 

Once Shiro left, Keith had realized he was one of the few people at the Garrison Keith tolerated, the only person he actually liked. It had always seemed a miracle to him that Shiro liked him as well, even if, as a rule, Shiro seemed to like everyone. What had started as a casual mentorship had deepened into friendship, competitive and cheerful. When Shiro had been chosen for the Kerberos mission, Keith avoided him for weeks. Not because he was jealous – but because he realized he was going to miss him. 

“It’s going to be okay, Keith,” Shiro had said once he’d tracked Keith down. He’d placed his hands on Keith’s shoulders, and smiled. Keith hadn’t been able to find it in himself to smile back. He had never wanted to be vulnerable. He’d only ever wanted to fly. 

“I’ll only be gone a few months,” Shiro had continued. If he’d been disappointed at Keith’s lack of response, he never showed it. He kept smiling – a small, assured smile. He was proud of being chosen for the mission to Kerberos, though he would never say it. Keith had thought it pretty stupid for him to be proud. Of course Shiro had been chosen. Who else could even have been in the running?

“Good luck,” was all Keith had said, and he had shrugged his shoulders from Shiro’s grasp. 

For months, after the failure of the Kerberos mission, Keith dreamed that he had asked Shiro to stay, and woke up only to the sound of the wind. 

Finally, the basket halts next to a platform. Keith climbs out first, wobbling a little as the basket shifts beneath his feet. Shiro steadies himself on Keith as he climbs out after and Keith leans back against him, just barely, before pulling away. 

Qwortz snickers at them and then moves to help Raddle tie up the basket’s vines. The tree they’re on is thick around as a building, and the platform around it extends thirty feet in each direction. But some of that is taken up by a low-roofed, leaf-thatched hut backed against the tree. Keith looks at the hut curiously. Despite its low stature, the wood of it is covered in intricate carved designs, small circles formed by the roots and branches of a tree curving back to reach each other. 

“Wait here,” says Qwortz, and he and Raddle enter the hut. 

Keith looks at the sensor. It's beeping now. He moves it in a slow, exploratory circle; it gets louder when he points it towards the hut’s door, the arrow blinking and pointing straight ahead. 

“Shiro.” 

“I hear it,” says Shiro. He looks at the sensor and then at the tree. “So I guess whatever we’re looking for is in here. That’s convenient.” 

“There’s no way it’s going to be that easy,” says Keith. 

Shiro shrugs. He’s half-smiling. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky this time.”

Keith raises his eyebrows in disbelief. He fidgets while they wait, testing out his own mood. He still has some residual anger at Shiro, but it’s fading, flickering on only because _of course_ Shiro is worrying about him when Shiro should be worrying about _Shiro_. As much as Keith keeps locked inside himself, he knows that Shiro is keeping more. 

And being hundreds of feet above the ground in a tree-house is pretty cool. It’s hard to still be mad. He looks around, and is met with the curious stares of dozens of aliens. He waves at them, and Shiro snorts gently. Keith elbows him, and Shiro responds by holding tight onto Keith’s arm and squeezing. He doesn’t let go, and Keith feels a little more of his anger fade. 

The Ryvians seem deeply intrigued by this contact. There’s a burst of chatter and movement, and more of the weird, barking laughter. A few of the Ryvians swing closer to them. Keith flashes back to how Raddle and Qwortz had been similarly interested when Shiro had held Keith’s arm earlier. He realizes then that all the Ryvians, except the smaller ones, which must be children, are grouped in pairs. Even when there are clusters of them, there are gaps between sets of two. 

Shiro seems to observe the same. 

“They really take the buddy system seriously here,” he says, dryly.

Before Keith can respond, Raddle returns. He nods to Keith and Shiro. 

“The Mother has agreed to see you.”

He leads them into the hut. It’s dim inside, and it takes a moment for Keith’s eyes to adjust. When they do, he realizes it’s bigger inside than he expected. Bigger inside than it is on the outside. 

“It goes into the tree,” says Shiro. 

Keith realizes he’s right. The room expands into the hollowed out center of the tree, and, yet, the tree is living. The walls of the room seem to breathe. 

Seated in the middle, right where the building meets the tree, is a very small and wizened Ryvian. Keith mistakes her for a heap of rags at first. But then she stirs and lifts her head. She blinks. Her eyes are spiderwebbed with cataracts. 

She’s blind. 

“Mother,” says Raddle. He drops to his knees in front of the very old one. Qwortz is already kneeling. “These are the strangers from the sky.”

The Mother turns her head in Keith and Shiro’s direction. Shiro strides forward and kneels, but Keith remains behind. He squats on his heels and keeps one eye on the entrance. He’s not trying to be disrespectful, but he doesn’t like both of them on their knees with their backs turned in a strange place, even if the Ryvians have so far seemed peaceful. 

“Er – Mother,” begins Shiro. “Thank you for meeting with us. Our ship has fallen, and we need assistance. We believe there’s something called diranium kept in here that can help us.” 

Keith only half-listens as Shiro explains who they are and what they need. He’s not there for diplomacy. The sensor continues to beep excitedly, a robotic, insistent counterpoint to the warmth of Shiro’s voice. 

The Mother nods sympathetically as Shiro speaks, her star-speckled eyes somehow trained on Shiro’s face. 

“I do not know this _diranium_. But, perhaps you refer to our altar, which fell from the sky many Mothers ago. You may take some of it, as you need. However, only those who are bonded can enter the Mother Tree.” 

She gestures behind her, into the open heart of the tree, the vaulting dark behind her. The hollowing seems to extend far above the roof of the small building they’re inside. 

“Bonded?” says Shiro, blankly. 

The Mother gestures at Raddle and Qwortz. 

“As these two are. They have made a commitment to each other in front of the Goddess and chosen to tie their fates together. They live and die as one.”

At the words, Qwortz reaches out and takes Raddle’s hand. Their long, clever fingers twist together. 

“Oh!” Shiro goes faintly pink. “No, we’re not, uh, bonded.” 

A murmur of confusion passes between the three aliens. 

“But your manner with each other,” says Raddle. “You are very familiar.” 

“Because we’re – ”

“We’re not bonded yet,” says Keith, snapping suddenly to attention. His heart is in his mouth. “But we want to be.” 

Shiro frowns at him, quizzical, but he doesn’t argue. 

The Mother nods. She squeezes her hands together in her lap. 

“Your ways are strange to us, then. But strange is not always wrong. You may return tomorrow for the bonding.” 

“Can’t we just do it now?” demands Keith. He doesn’t want to spend the night a sitting duck, and they might as well get it over with. 

“That is not how it’s done,” responds the Mother, face impassive. “Yes, your ways are strange, and yes, strange is not always wrong. But for this, our ways are right. We must prepare for your bonding.” 

Qwortz laughs again and this time Raddle joins him.

Shiro swallows hard, but he nods and stands. He has to stoop to fit in the hut. Keith eyes him warily. He can’t tell how Shiro is taking this. He rises to his feet and makes to follow Raddle and Qwortz out, but then he pauses. 

He looks back at the Mother. “Can’t you just… go and get some for us?”

The Mother shakes her head. “What is taken from the Mother Tree must be freely given by the Goddess.”

“Oh.” He lingers for a second, then asks, “Who are you bonded to?” 

She smiles and lifts a thin hand above her head, seeming to indicate the entire length of the tree and the sky above. 

“To the Goddess, of course.” 

***

Raddle and Qwortz lead them back to forest’s edge. Shiro and Keith are both silent, and when Keith chances a look at Shiro, Shiro’s expression is contemplative. 

“Quick-thinking back there, Keith,” says Shiro, once they’ve made the long climb back up to the castle. “Good job.” 

Keith doesn’t respond. His heart is suddenly clamorous. Shiro isn’t actually angry with him. 

“Though I guess it would have been smarter just to say we were bonded…” 

Keith nods. He’s saved from actually responding by the others coming to meet them. 

“Did you find the diranium?” asks Coran, as they all walk inside. “We’ve managed to fix everything else.” 

“Mostly!” says Hunk. He looks exhausted. 

Shiro glances at Keith before answering. Keith recedes into his usual, comfortable, sullen silence. 

“We found where it is. But the locals need us to undergo a ceremony before we’re allowed to enter their temple and retrieve it.”

“The locals?” says Pidge. She adjusts her glasses. “What are they like? They must be friendly…”

“I didn’t realize this planet was inhabited,” says Allura.

“A ceremony?” says Hunk.

“You guys _failed_?” says Lance. 

Shiro ignores all of them except for Hunk. Keith spares a scowl for Lance, who sniffs at him. 

“It’s a… bonding ceremony between two people. I think it’s religious in nature.” 

There’s a long pause. 

“A bonding ceremony?” says Hunk. “Like… a wedding?” 

Keith’s entire chest seems to constrict. Put that way, it sounds a lot more serious. 

But he’s not upset about it. 

Lance puffs out his chest. “Naturally, Allura and I –”

Keith cuts him off quickly. 

“They already think Shiro and I are a couple. We’re doing it.”

“But you – You’re both…” Lance looks shocked. 

“I don’t think that matters to them,” says Shiro. He sounds amused. 

Keith looks at him carefully, searching for any hint of discomfort, but he sees nothing. Shiro looks back at him, affable and at-ease. It’s Keith who blushes and looks away first. 

“Why would it matter?” says Coran. 

There’s a long, bemused silence. 

“Well, it doesn’t,” says Pidge eventually. “I mean, not really. I mean. If they wanted to have kids, it wouldn’t work. Though they could adopt, I guess, or, well, there’s…”

“Wait,” Allura cuts Pidge off. She and Coran look equally perplexed. She looks back and forth between Keith and Shiro. “They can’t reproduce together?” 

There’s a long, confused silence. 

“How… How do Alteans, uh…” Hunk trails off, bright red, and makes a vague gesture. 

Allura looks thoughtful. “Well, if the purpose is reproduction, biological sex of the parents is immaterial as far as mixing genetic material goes. But if you lacked an artificial womb, you would need a male to be the surrogate.” 

“You’d need a _male_?” yelps Lance.

“Oh, yes!” says Coran brightly. He pats his stomach. “The womb! Also known as the abdominal pouch. How else is a growing fetus expected to receive the nutrients it requires?” 

“You have a pouch?” That from Hunk, looking as uneasy and faint as Lance. 

“You don’t?” 

“No, they don’t,” says Pidge. She leans down to inspect Coran’s stomach. “I do, though. Sort of. But that doesn’t mean I’m – well, anyway. Can I see yours?” 

“Pidge, Coran – not now,” says Allura loftily. “We have to prepare for tomorrow.” 

Everyone looks at her blankly. 

“What do you need to prepare for?” asks Keith. 

“We’ll be attending the ceremony, of course! You’re our friends. And we can enter your new friends into the Alliance!” 

Hunk nods fervently in agreement. “And we wouldn’t want to miss your, uh, bonding? Wedding? Should I make a cake?” 

“ _No_ ,” say Keith and Shiro simultaneously. 

“That’s cute,” says Pidge, snickering. “You’re already acting like you can read each others’ minds.” 

Keith glowers at her. He can feel a familiar, ticking annoyance build up from the base of his skull. He wants to get away from everyone. He wants to stop having this conversation. 

“That’s enough,” says Shiro loudly. “You can all come, if you’d like. But this is not a real wedding. We’re doing this so we can repair the castle.”

“Right,” snarls Keith, and he’s suddenly not sure who he’s mad at – Shiro or the others or himself. “It doesn’t _mean_ anything.” 

And he turns and stalks out of the room.

“Wow, Shiro. That was _cold_ ,” says Lance. 

If Shiro says anything in response, Keith doesn’t hear it.

***

Lance finds him on the training deck an hour later. Keith ignores him until the simulation ends. 

“I just want you to know,” says Lance, once Keith has put down his staff and glared at Lance to acknowledge his presence, “that I support the two of you.” 

“What?” says Keith. 

“You and Shiro! I support you guys! Do whatever makes you happy! Besides – “ He smirks. “I was kind of worried Allura might have a thing for Shiro, and this removes the competition.” 

Keith considers this. There are all kinds of reasonable ways he could respond. 

He swings up the butt of his staff and shoves it into Lance’s stomach. Lance leaps back just in time. 

“You’re getting faster,” says Keith. He drops the staff and walks out, feeling a little more cheerful. 

Unfortunately, Shiro is waiting for him outside his room. Keith sees him before Shiro spots Keith, and he notices how drawn Shiro looks, his face downcast and pale in thought. 

He brightens when he spots Keith though and smiles, eyes going soft. It tugs at Keith in a painful way. 

“Hey. Were you training?”

Keith grunts something vaguely affirmative. Shiro’s eyebrows rise slightly and then flatten out. 

“Did you lose to the robot again?” 

Keith snorts. “I never lose to it.” 

Shiro smiles a little wider. 

“Can we talk?”

“Sure,” says Keith, though he knows every part of him is broadcasting, ‘Fuck no.’ 

He opens the door to his room and crosses to sit stiffly on his bed. Shiro sits next to him. His face is grave again. 

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay with what’s going to happen tomorrow.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” says Keith. 

“You’re avoiding the question.” 

“It’s a dumb question, Shiro.”

Shiro rolls his eyes.

“All right, Keith. I just wanted to say, if you’re uncomfortable at all – ”

“I’m not.”

“Then I can go with Allura,” finishes Shiro, bullish. 

Keith glares at him. His face feels hot and his stomach twists. 

“Do you want to go with her?” he demands, and then adds, “Because it worked so well last time you and Allura went on a mission together.” 

It’s a low blow, but Shiro barely reacts. He just looks down at Keith.

“I don’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable, or damage our relationship.” 

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable,” snaps Keith. “And it won’t damage anything.” 

Shiro gives him an infuriatingly even look. 

“If you’re sure. But you seem pretty upset with me currently.” 

“I’m upset because you’re uncomfortable!” 

“I am not,” protests Shiro. But his face is pink. Even now, Keith can tell when he’s lying. He can tell that he's cracked Shiro’s calm, and it only makes him feel worse. 

“Whatever.” 

Keith throws himself back on his bed and crosses his arms. He scowls up at the ceiling. He has a knack for aggressively pretending people aren’t near him. It was a necessary skill, growing up. 

But it’s hard to ignore Shiro. Keith’s entire body feels drawn tight. His muscles ache from their hike and from sparring with the Gladiator, but he’s still locked in familiar, rocking waves of anxious energy. He digs his fingers tight into the muscles of his arms and tries to focus on his breathing. 

Shiro wraps his hand around Keith’s ankle. Keith jerks away. 

“I’m not worried about the bonding,” says Shiro. He sounds sad, but Keith won’t look at him to see if it shows in his face. “This won’t change anything. We’re already tied together.” 

“Right,” mutters Keith. “Voltron.”

There’s a long, measured silence, like maybe Shiro is thinking of saying something more, like maybe Shiro thinks Keith didn’t quite understand. Still, Keith stubbornly refuses to look at him. 

“Sleep well, buddy,” is all Shiro finally says, and Keith feels the bed flex up as Shiro stands. 

The door shuts itself with a quiet schnick as Shiro leaves. Keith is left with a lurching feeling that he’s missed something. 

***

They get up in the pre-dawn murk and gather at the entry way of the palace, all of them yawning and rubbing their eyes except for Allura and Shiro. Allura is beaming. Shiro looks like he hasn’t slept at all. Keith studies him covertly.

There’s a hollowness to Shiro that Keith catches sometimes, like Shiro has slipped away from himself and is floating in the dark and vast expanse of his internal sky. He looks that way now, as he stands in the back. Keith wants to banish the others and call Shiro back to himself. He wants to call the whole thing off, if it’s going to make Shiro look like this. It shouldn’t be hard to break into the temple and grab what they need. 

Keith can see the second Shiro returns to himself. His expression ripples; his eyes sharpen. He catches Keith looking, and this time, it’s Shiro who looks away, looks up. Both moons have long since set. 

“We should go,” says Keith. He feels strange and heavy. 

The others nod and set off, feeling their way down the incline. Dawn is starting to crack the day open in front of them. 

“Keith?” says Shiro. He hasn’t moved. 

Keith hangs back and looks at him. 

Shiro looks like he’s about to ask, yet again, if Keith is sure. Keith grabs his hand. 

“Come on,” he says. 

He walks forward. Shiro doesn’t budge. Keith looks back, impatient. Shiro is staring at their clasped hands. There’s a fine line between his eyebrows and his mouth purses slightly. It’s not an unhappy expression, exactly, but it’s definitely not happy either. It’s like Shiro doesn’t know how to process what he’s looking at. 

“Are you okay?” asks Keith. His anger slides away and uncertainty takes its place. 

Shiro’s eyes flicker to him. His expression returns to the present, firms up into a smile. 

“Yes,” he says. He gives Keith’s hand a gentle squeeze. His hand is very warm. “Let’s go.” 

Keith nods, suddenly speechless. 

They have to let go as they make their way down the steep rise, but when Keith glances at Shiro, he catches Shiro looking at him. 

Once again, Shiro turns red and looks away. 

It’s not like Shiro to be nervous. 

Raddle and Qwortz meet them at the forest’s edge. Both stare up, studying the Castle of Lions. It’s light outside the forest, dark within. The trees cast long, ghostly shadows and a mist seems to rise from the forest floor. They all stand in a drum-tight silence. Birds call from the forest, and their cries are long and jagged and eerie. 

“Wow,” says Hunk loudly. “This is spooky.” 

It breaks the spell. Pidge laughs brightly, and then the rest join in. It’s an easy hike from there, the other Paladins joking around and exploring the forest while Allura settles into deep conversation with the Ryvians. Shiro, though, still moves slowly, and Keith sticks by him. 

“Nervous?” asks Keith, once, when the others are too far engrossed in examining a particularly giant, fluorescently colored mushroom to hear. 

“Why would I be nervous?” asks Shiro, with infuriating calm. He’s managed to pull himself together, has resumed his usual air-tight and upright composure. 

“Oh, of course. Because it’s meaningless, right?” Keith’s temper flashes back, quick as it ever was, and he stomps away. 

Shiro grabs his arm. 

“Hey. That’s not what I meant,” says Shiro, exasperated. He looks at Keith intently. Keith feels pinned and split open by that look. “If I have to do this, I’m glad I’m doing it with you.” 

He lets go and walks on and Keith is the one left standing behind this time. 

What the hell does that mean?

***

It takes three trips in the basket to get everyone up to their platform. Hunk looks queasy at the end of it, but no one embarrasses themselves. They’re met by a crowd of Ryvians, dressed in what are clearly ceremonial robes. The Mother stands in front, her wizened face beaming.

Allura bows low and shakes the Mother’s hands. Keith hears her start in about unity and generosity and immediately zones out. Shiro, next to him, listens with an obvious expression of interest. Keith frowns and tries not to fidget. He watches the Ryvians watch them and wonders how sincere Shiro’s interest is in Allura’s speech. Shiro does almost everything sincerely, but there are times when Keith wonders, hollowed with jealousy, if Shiro has ulterior motives when it comes to Allura. 

He tries to stamp down on his jealousy. Shiro’s doing this with _him_. 

Allura’s speech ends and the two groups mingle, the Paladins as fascinated by the Ryvians as the Ryvians are by the Paladins. Allura remains bent low, talking animatedly with the Mother. 

Keith lingers away from the crowd. 

“You don’t want to join in?” asks Shiro, something in his face makes it clear he doesn’t feel like making small talk with aliens either. 

Keith shifts uneasily. “Maybe after.” 

Shiro nods and breathes deep. “Maybe after.” 

Pidge whoops suddenly. She has a small Ryvian child hanging off each arm. 

“You know they’re all the same gender? I wonder how their reproduction works…” She dangles the two lemur-sized children in front of her, peering at them while they laugh. 

“More importantly, _how do you know they’re all the same_?” whispers Hunk, horrified. 

“And how did you learn that so quickly?” demands Lance.

Pidge ignores them.

“Keith, Shiro.” Raddle approaches them. “Your friends may stay with the watchers. You will come with us.” 

“Thank you,” says Shiro, instinctively polite. 

Keith doesn’t say anything. He feels suddenly anxious, his neck tight and his stomach twisting. 

They’re led into another hut, even smaller than the Mother’s temple, and without the benefit of backing up against a hollowed tree. Shiro has to hunch, and even Keith has to duck to get through the doorway. The ceiling brushes against the top of his hair. 

A Ryvian whose name Keith doesn’t know enters after them. Silently, she hands each of them a dark bowl full of liquid. Then, she hangs two censors from the ceiling and lights them. They swing in lazy circles before settling, and the smoke that drifts from them is sweet and faintly spicy, like the scent he had picked up on the wind the day before. His nose twitches. 

She bows and leaves, shutting the door behind her. Keith realizes there are no real windows, just narrow, horizontal slits cut nearly at the top of each wall. It creates a crosshatch of breezes and the light inside is dim, made even more shadowy with the smoke. 

Keith and Shiro are alone. Keith sinks cross-legged to the floor. After a pause, Shiro does too. They’re close enough that their knees brush against each other. There’s not really enough space for them to move away. 

Keith takes a careful sip from his bowl. It’s water, shocking cold and clear-tasting. Next to him, Shiro drinks from his bowl as well. He feels more than hears Shiro’s own sigh of relief. 

“Just water.” 

Keith grins. The anxiety is still ricocheting inside him, but this – this is okay so far. Maybe he and Shiro just have to sit in this hut and hang out for a while. 

“You were hoping for Coran’s gross tea?”

Shiro breathes out his laughter. 

The hut fills with more incense. The smoke curls in broad, cursive strokes. It seems to settle in Keith’s lungs. His eyelids feel heavy, his body pleasantly and curiously loose. The ever-living anger and anxiety that burn and kick inside him seem to ebb and bank. 

“Did you ever think you’d get married?” asks Keith, eventually. It’s easier to ask without looking at Shiro. The silence takes the shock of his words gracefully, softened by the dark and the smoke. 

“I never thought about it, really,” says Shiro, after a drawn out pause. Time seems to have a curious, taffy-like quality to it. “I guess I always assumed I would, if I met the right person. But now…”

Keith nods and draws his legs to his chest. 

“What about you?” 

Shiro’s voice is strange. It’s too light. Keith risks a sideways glance, but Shiro is studying his bowl intently. 

“Never.” 

Voltron’s the closest thing to a family Keith has ever had. It’s closer to a family than anything he ever expected to get. 

He wonders who even could be “the right person” for Shiro.

Shiro looks up from his bowl, looks directly at Keith. It’s a soft look, tender and even, and it strikes Keith like a blow. 

“It’s okay to let people in, Keith,” says Shiro. 

“I’ve let people in. I’ve let you in, haven’t I?” 

Shiro snorts, and then shakes his head, letting go of whatever sarcastic remark he was going to make. 

“People besides me.” 

“I’ve… let the others in,” says Keith. “They’re my friends now.” He makes a face. “Even Lance, I guess,”

Shiro laughs, an honest, open laugh. 

“Yeah,” he says, grinning. “I guess you have.” 

“Thank you,” says Keith haughtily. He flicks some of the water in his bowl at Shiro. 

Shiro swats at him gently in response, still laughing. But then he sobers up. 

“I’m just saying, don’t… don’t do something just because it feels like it’s your only choice.”

Keith stares at him. The smoke has made his head feel heavy and stupid. He’s having trouble parsing through the layered meanings of Shiro’s words. 

There were times, in the last year, when Keith seemed to jerk suddenly from the trance of the desert and his obsessive quest, when he was lucid enough to wonder if he’d cracked from grief. If he were just chasing shadows and figments in a vain scramble for to have some meaning back in his life. He always decided that, even if he had cracked, the madness was preferable to the pain. Maybe the desert would be kind enough to swallow him whole, just as space had swallowed Shiro. 

And now he has Shiro back. 

“I thought you were dead,” he says, suddenly unable to look at Shiro. “Do you have any idea what that felt like?” 

“No,” says Shiro, very small and very sad and very simply. 

“It’s not your fault,” Keith tells him quickly. Because it’s not. It’s the Galra Empire’s fault. And he’s not mad at Shiro. How could he be? But… 

“I thought you were dead,” he repeats. “And I realized there wasn’t anyone else that meant anything to me.” 

Shiro turns red at that. 

Keiith realizes then that they’re sitting very close together. 

"Shiro," says Keith. His mouth is dry and his head is cotton-stuffed, and he can feel the pulse of his blood in every inch of his body. The grief that undid him echoes faintly through him as he remembers that last year. He puts his hands on Shiro's chest and keeps them there, to assure himself that Shiro is there – solid, present, whole – and loses his thoughts for a second in the warmth that passes from Shiro's body into Keith's hands. 

"Keith?" says Shiro, with half a laugh. His chest jumps beneath Keith's hands. 

Keith looks up at him. Shiro's face is scrunched slightly, amused, confused. But his eyes are large and pupil-eaten. Keith thinks his must look the same. _What is in this smoke_? 

Keith licks his lips. "I..." he starts. 

The door to the hut opens, and bright sunlight slams them. Keith flinches, away from the sunlight, away from Shiro. 

Raddle and Qwortz stand side by side in the doorway, so that Keith can only see half of either. Each bows. 

"The purification has ended," says Raddle. 

“Now we begin the trial,” says Qwortz. 

"The... trial?" says Shiro. He stands slowly, keeping his hand pressed against the wall to support himself. Absently, he offers a hand to Keith. 

Keith takes his hand and lets Shiro pull him up. He still feels dizzy and at ends. The sunlight hurts his eyes. But he's grateful for the interruption. He's not ready to tell Shiro... anything, really. He’s already told him too much. Still, he keeps his hold on Shiro's hand, and Shiro doesn't disengage. They walk out together into the day. 

Keith squints around. They’re still on the platform. The gaggle of Ryvians from before all stand grouped with the Paladins and Allura on a small, raised dais covered in woven fabrics and pillows. Allura’s hands are clasped together in front of her chest, and Keith can distinctly make out the hint of tears in her eyes. 

Hunk doesn’t even bother to hide that he’s sobbing. 

There’s a spread of food behind them, and it smells a lot better than anything Coran has ever served them. Keith’s stomach grumbles. He didn’t have breakfast. Shiro shoots him a grin. It’s a little wobbly, like he hasn’t figured out how to piece his composure back together. 

“Think there’ll be a banquet in our honor?” he asks in an undertone. 

“I think that _is_ the banquet,” mutters Keith. “I just don’t think there’ll be any left for us.” 

Shiro laughs and musses his hair affectionately. 

Raddle and Qwortz lead them to the edge of the platform, where the Mother is waiting for them. The wind shakes the edge alarmingly, and Keith shifts his stance so his balance is better. Next to him, Shiro does the same. The Mother seems unperturbed by the wind, though, as do Raddle and Qwortz. Vines as thick as Keith’s wrist hang down from the branches above them, forming a curtain. The vines don’t hang past the platform, but instead are coiled like ropes upon it. 

Keith looks around, nonplussed. He doesn’t see anything that looks like it’s meant for a trial. He does see a whole host of Ryvians arrayed in the trees around them, hundreds of watching eyes from all angles. Their faces are solemn. None of them speak. An eerie feeling overtakes Keith and he steps closer to Shiro. 

Several of the Ryvians step down from the dais and join them. One moves forward and bows to Keith. Keith bows awkwardly back, then shoots Shiro a perplexed look over the Ryvian’s head. Shiro shrugs in response. He looks just as perplexed. 

The Ryvian who bowed picks up a vine and ties it around Keith’s waist. The knot she ties is thick and complicated. Two more Ryvians step in, adding more vines, and moving quickly. Soon, Keith’s in a harness. 

No one touches Shiro. Raddle and Qwortz stand between him and Keith, like a ceremonial guard. It looks like Shiro has gotten closer to the edge of the platform. 

Keith stares at him. 

“Now what?” he asks. 

In response, Raddle and Qwortz shove Shiro off the platform. 

Without thinking, Keith pushes past Raddle and Qwortz and dives after him. The wind whips at his face, burning it. Shiro is plummeting just beyond his reach. The ground is hundreds of feet below them. Time seems to slow for Keith. 

He’s calm. 

He reaches out. Shiro grabs his forearm. 

And time speeds back up. He and Shiro twist together in the air. Keith’s arm screams with pain and he hears himself yelll as Shiro uses his arm to swing himself up. They grab each other and fall together. 

The vines go taut, and the recoil knocks the breath from Keith’s lungs, but he keeps his grip on Shiro. They swing like a pendulum. Keith’s heart roars in his ears. 

“I got you,” says Keith, stunned. “I’ve got you, Shiro.” 

Shiro laughs once, breathless, slightly hysterical, and Keith feels both their bodies shake. Then, he feels Shiro’s whole body go tense, back under control. 

“We should try to swing up against that tree,” he says. 

It's hard for Keith to see anything. Most of his view is taken up by Shiro. But he sees the direction Shiro indicates and nods. They work together and manage it, swinging themselves closer to the trunk of one of the great trees that surround them. Shiro wraps his legs around Keith and reaches out, grabbing onto one of the branches, so that they’re pulled flush against each other and the tree. Keith’s mind flashes blank for a second, but then his training takes over. He reaches out and grabs ahold of a branch of a his own.

Shiro lets go of Keith and pulls himself over so he’s standing on one of the branches. It’s as wide as a bench. Keith settles parallel to Shiro and takes a few deep breaths. Experimentally, Shiro leans over and tugs on one of the vines holding Keith up. 

“If you stay down here, I can use this to pull myself up,” he says. “And then I can help pull you up.”

“I won’t need help.” 

Shiro gives him a brief, amused look, recovered already from being shoved almost to his death. Which must be nice for him. Keith still isn’t recovered from the shock of seeing Shiro fall. 

He’s already lost Shiro once. 

“We can talk about it once I’m up there,” says Shiro. He takes the vine in his hands and leans back, then places his feet against the trunk. Keith winces as the vines pull against him, but it’s only a little uncomfortable. 

Shiro starts pulling himself up. Keith watches the bulge of Shiro’s biceps and the way his chest works – and then snaps himself out of it. It’s not like he has to stay down here, waiting to be rescued. He activates his balyard and cuts himself out of his harness. 

Shiro looks down and makes a face when he feels the sudden loss of an anchoring weight. 

“Sorry,” yells Keith, though he’s not. He grabs one of the other vines and starts hauling himself up after Shiro. 

He joins him soon. Shiro’s stronger, but Keith has a lot less weight to carry. His anger re-ignites as he climbs. Shiro could have _died_ , and he speeds up, his fury fueling him to surpass Shiro and crest the edge of the platform before him. His vision is aslant and he sees only the drawn spears of the Ryvians. He activates his balyard. Behind him, Shiro comes vaulting onto the platform, shouting. 

“Everyone! Weapons down! Allura – handle it,” shouts Shiro. Vaguely, Keith realizes that the others have all brought their balyards up, that they’re surrounded by the group of spear-wielding Ryvians. 

Keith moves to join them. 

“Keith, _no!_ ” Shiro grabs Keith and yanks him close. 

“Let go!” yells Keith. His vision is redcast and he can’t breathe. He’s going to _kill_ them. 

“Keith, I’m okay. I’m okay.” Shiro grabs both sides of Keith’s face, one hand cool and metal, the other warm and living. Keith tries to jerk away again. He’s trembling in every line of his body. 

“ _Focus_ ,” says Shiro. “Breathe.” 

“They tried to kill you!” 

“They knew you’d save me,” says Shiro. Simply. Calmly. 

He smiles, and Keith focuses on that, makes himself breathe deep. 

“I knew you’d save me.”

“Congratulations,” says the Mother, interrupting them.

Keith whirls. The Mother is standing in the same spot she was when Shiro was pushed, but a small knot of Ryvians stand clustered in front of her, hands on their spears. 

Shiro steps between them and Keith. 

“You’re not pushing Keith off. You’re not doing anything to him.”

He’s still calm, but he radiates warning. 

The Mother smiles. 

“No, the trial has been completed, and you have succeeded. Only the final bonding remains.”

Keith’s arm jerks almost involuntarily at that. He can’t think of what would have happened if he hadn’t succeeded. He still feels sick with rage. He doesn’t want to continue this farce. 

“We should just go take – ”

“No,” says Shiro, cutting him off immediately. But he reaches over and places his hand on Keith’s shoulder and squeezes gently. Keith goes hot all over. 

“Let’s get it over with,” says Shiro. 

The Mother laughs, barking like a dog, and nods. The other Ryvians – after an uneasy exchange of glances – split, and the Mother walks through their wake, a cut piece of vine in her hand, thinner than what Keith had been tied with. 

“This is the oath you cannot break,” she tells them. Her voice has a cadence to it that makes Keith think these aren’t her words, that they’re older than her. They give him the same prickly chill that he got out in the desert sometimes, as he searched unwittingly for Voltron. 

“Bring your hands together,” she instructs. 

Keith looks at Shiro and smiles, wary. Shiro smiles back. He looks nervous again, but he brings his hand up and Keith clasps it with his own. Keith feels suddenly breathless. A wave inside rolls up, crashes through, and Shiro is the only thing he can see.

“Do you vow to protect one each other, to fight for the benefit of the other, and to live for the other’s joy?” 

“Yes,” responds Keith immediately. 

“Yes,” echoes Shiro. 

They wrap the vine once around their clasped hands. 

“Do you vow to live for the other, and die for the other, to sacrifice your life to protect the whole?” 

"Yes," says Shiro. His expression is intent. 

"Yes," repeats Keith, just as sure. 

“Uh, guys?” interrupts Pidge. She points to the sky. They all look up. Flashing in the sky, moving at incredible speed, is a Galra ship. 

It's headed straight towards the castle. 

Keith reacts first, already pulling up his helmet and racing towards the platform’s edge. The vine whips off his arm. Shiro is only an instant behind. 

“Paladins!” barks Shiro. “To your lions! Coran – enemy incoming.” 

“Thank you, Shiro! I’m aware!” comes back Coran’s voice over the comm. 

Keith blocks him out and flings out his consciousness. He finds Red easily. The lion is smarting from their near-defeat at the hands of Zarkon. Like Keith, it’s eager to fight. 

Red arrives first of the lions, dodging gracefully through the trees and coming to a hovering halt by the platform. The Ryvians gasp. Keith hurtles himself inside. A flood of information passes through him, the other Paladins calling through their comms – "They must have made it into the wormhole after us!" "Let's hope they don't call company." "Coran said the nearest Galra outpost was days away." – but Red is purring and Red knows exactly how far they are from _this_ Galra ship. As one, he and Red soar up, hurtling towards the enemy. He locks on his target and fires. 

Their pilot is quick though – must be how they made it in before the wormhole closed – and the ship darts out of the way. It goes high, sends a flurry of lasers at Red. Keith dances through the beam. He's aware of the other Lions now, all of them linked together in a shifting, gleaming mental map. One ship shouldn't be any trouble at all. 

"Uh oh," says Hunk. "Pidge! Behind you!" 

There's a burst of blaster noise, and Keith yanks Red around just in time to see the Green Lion skip away from the lasers of a shimmering, new Galra ship, come up behind them. A whole section of the forest goes up in black smoke. Keith's stomach wrenches. The second ship blinks out of view.

"It's invisible!" howls Lance. "That's not fair!"

"Doesn't matter!" yells Shiro. "We have to get it away from the Ryvians!" 

Keith doesn’t necessarily agree, but he sends Red rushing forward, and is gratified to see the first ship take the bait and give chase. He zooms ahead, gleeful, and the tops of the trees beneath him ripple with the force of his passage. There’s a dazzle of lasers sent after him, and Red weaves through them, joyful. The castle is coming closer, and Keith figures he’ll need to turn soon and fight before the castle is put in any real danger. 

But with a start, he realizes the warship isn’t behind him. Panic grips him – has it turned back? Is it invisible too? – and Red turns as quick as a thought and – 

The forest has captured the Galra ship. 

Vines have reached up and wrapped around it. The ship struggles against them, straining against the vines, like a fly in a spider’s web. Already, though, the vines are starting to snap, more quickly than new ones can whip up from the forest. 

It hits him then that even if he hadn’t leapt after Shiro, the forest would have caught him. Shiro was never in any danger at all. 

The Blue Lion takes Keith’s pause to fly up and fire at the struggling Galra ship. It crackles with energy and smoke. The Blue Lion fires again, and Keith jolts back into motion. He flies close and fires too, and the Galra ship explodes, its pieces raining down into the trees. 

“Stop daydreaming!” shouts Lance over the comm. 

Keith rolls his eyes and doesn’t respond. He can see the other three Lions darting around, avoiding the second ship’s lasers as it pops in and out of visibility. He moves to join them.

Red crunches to a halt, the controls jammed beneath Keith's hands. 

"What the – " 

The lion plummets, slamming into the canopy, and Red goes crashing through the trees, snapping branches the whole way down. Keith rattles with the impacts, but the cockpit has enough shock resistance that he’s only left feeling mildly dazed by the time Red finally slams into the earth. 

“Uh…” comes Hunk’s voice over the comm. “Sorry about that.”

"I thought you fixed him!" roars Keith. 

"I said mostly fixed!" shouts Hunk back. "Sorry I can't _magically_ fix your _magic_ lion in a day!" 

"At least he was working, Mr. I-Got-Engaged-to-the-Team-Captain," snaps Lance. 

Keith growls. "That's not even a good insult!" 

" _Focus_ , Paladins!" yells Shiro. “Keith – you okay?”

“Yes,” grunts Keith. The controls come back online and Red hums, apologetic, in the back of Keith’s mind. 

“Not your fault,” mutters Keith to the lion. Red rises the way they fell, and they crest the canopy in time for Keith to see the Black Lion go leaping away from the fray. 

“Everyone – " starts Shiro.

"Voltron time?" chirps Pidge. 

"Voltron time," confirms Shiro, and Keith can almost hear the grin in his voice. Red thrums with excitement

He joins with the others, a feeling in his chest like all the locks unclicking inside him. The Lions spin together and Red’s sense of wholeness floods Keith. This is where they both belong. He can sense the others feeling similarly. Like always, the flood of information that passes through him is almost overwhelming, but he finds a wave and rides it, crests on the joy and comfort of the others. Voltron takes shape and stands, proudly, above the now blazing forest. 

The second ship is nowhere to be seen. 

"Wait for it," commands Shiro. 

Voltron hangs in midair. The forest below them burns. Through the smoke, Keith sees a now familiar shimmer. 

" _Now!_ " bellows Shiro

Voltron somersaults out of the way of the blaster fire and pivots towards the ship. It starts to shimmer again, but Voltron's quicker this time. As one, they leap forward and raise the sword and bring it crashing down on the ship with a metal-crunching fury. The ship splinters, though doesn't quite break, and the shimmering stops. The ship snaps into full view.

"Ha! Who's invisible _now_!" crows Lance. 

"Neither of us, idiot," mutters Keith, but he's smiling. 

They bring the sword up again, and the few lasers the ship can bring itself to fire deflect almost harmlessly off Voltron. 

They bring the sword down. 

This time, the ship breaks apart entirely, snapping in half. The pieces fall and skid, leaving a devastation of broken trees in their wake. Hundreds of birds flee to the sky, swirling around Voltron for a second in a cloud of terror before careening away. 

"We have to put the fires out," says Keith. 

"On it!" shouts Lance. 

Voltron breaks apart. 

"Pidge, Hunk – dig trenches ahead of the fires," order Shiro. "Keith, we're on fire suppression. Lance - you know what to do." 

Keith follows the Black Lion into the flames. He's not worried about Red's ability to take the heat – not when Red can produce lava of its own – but he's a little concerned about Shiro. 

He doesn’t need to be. The Black Lion plunges in and helps smother the flames without any ill-effect. The Red Lion joins in. Again and again, they plunge into the flames, banking them, directing them. It gets hot inside the cockpit. Sweat slides down Keith’s back and neck. His vision is white and spotty from looking at the fire. He keeps going. Together, slowly, he and Shiro beat back the flames towards the ditches Hunk and Pidge have dug. 

It takes longer to control the fire than the actual fight did, but, working in tandem, the five of them manage, finally, to put out the flames. Keith brings Red to land gently on the burned earth and tumbles out. He's overheated and thirsty, and his body feels strangely light and shaky. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat. 

Most of the trees where the fire burned are still standing, but they're charred and leafless now, many of them limbless, as well. They let in too much light, and the beams of sunlight turn almost opaque as they pierce the smoke-filled air. 

There's a crunching noise as the Black Lion lands nearby. 

Keith doesn’t look, but instead watches as Blue dumps thousands of gallons of water on the trees outside the ring of blackened forest. He can still sense Shiro’s approach though, and Shiro places his hand – casually, intimately – on Keith’s back. 

"Did you know he could do that?" he asks Shiro. He jerks his head in the direction of the Blue Lion. 

"No, but I had a suspicion." 

Keith glances at him. Shiro's looking up, watching Blue work, too. Keith can see the Green Lion and the Yellow Lion circle above them, looking for space to land. He only has a few seconds to say anything if he wants to say it in private. 

"We never finished the ceremony.”

Shiro meets his gaze, and smiles, tired. 

"No. We didn't."

Keith has no idea how to read that smile, if Shiro is disappointed or relieved. 

"We might have to," he pushes. He wants a response he can understand. 

But Shiro is saved from responding by the Yellow Lion belly-flopping down next to them. The ground shudders from the impact. The Green Lion lands more lightly a second after, and Shiro turns away, to thank and congratulate Hunk and Pidge as they come sliding out of their Lions. They pick their way through the shattered forest carefully and join them. Lance finishes his work soon after, and they all assemble in a loose group to take stock, breathe deep. 

Shiro never removes his hand. 

The Ryvians begin to emerge from the forest, into the steaming, dead woods. The Mother is carried in a basket by two of the larger Ryvians, and Allura glides along beside them. They all look a little harried, but no one seems injured or angry or grieving. 

The Mother is placed gently in front of them, and one of the Ryvians helps her from the basket. 

"I'm sorry," chokes out Keith, unable to look at the Mother. He looks down, at the ruined earth instead. They were the ones who brought Galra here. 

“There is nothing to be sorry for.”

Keith looks at her, bewildered. 

“But – the forest…”

“The forest is the Goddess,” explains the Mother. “And it is all one. Just as I am one with Her. One part may be injured, but the body is whole.” 

All at once, the trees ripple, as if moved by an unfelt breeze. The ones at the edge of the burn zone bend slightly, bowing. 

“It’s a single, sentient living organism,” breathes Pidge, in awe. 

The Mother gives them a sharp look, like she’s willing them to comprehend something. 

“This is why we practice the bonding. Together, we are stronger. Together, many make a whole. Even when we seem separate, we are whole.” 

She gestures between the five of them. “I can see now we did not understand. You are all bonded together.” 

Keith thinks of the tallest trees in the forest, where the Ryvians live, how they don’t touch at the top but leave space between. But beneath, where they can’t be seen, the trees must be tangled together, the roots interlaced. 

“Does she think we’re _all_ married?” whispers Hunk.

From the corner of his eye, Keith sees Pidge step on Hunk’s foot. 

“Thank you,” says Shiro, stepping forward. “We are honored.” 

The Mother bows low, and Shiro attempts to imitate the gesture. He looks a little ridiculous. Keith beams at him fondly. 

The Mother straightens up and gestures beyond her, back towards the Ryvian city. 

“When we return, you may all enter the Mother Tree.”

***

They enter the Mother Tree in silence. The Mother leads them to the back, and as they cross the threshold between temple and tree, Keith feels the back of his neck prickle. A pure and living darkness extends above them. He feels like when they first entered desert cavern and discovered the Blue Lion. There’s magic at work here. 

“Goddess,” says the Mother, striding to the opposite wall. She presses her hands against the tree. “These visitors from the stars, they come seeking a piece of the star-made altar. They are bonded together. Please, grant us this request.” 

They wait, hushed. The tree creaks and murmurs. The wood beneath their feet shifts and rocks them, and then, from the darkness above, descends a gleaming stone, held in a cradle of branches and leaves. The stone is white-flecked and glimmering, it’s surface pitted and marred. It glows faintly, washing them all in a milky translucence. 

“It looks like a meteorite,” says Pidge. 

“A radioactive one,” mutters Hunk, but quietly enough the Mother doesn’t seem to hear. There’s awe in his face though, as there is in all the others, as there must be on Keith’s own. 

The Mother nods at Pidge. “Like you, it fell from the sky.” 

She places her hands on the altar and it glows even brighter, glimmers of heart-red to it now, like the fanning, palm-length leaves of the trees around them. 

Shiro looks at the altar reverently. 

“May I?” he asks. 

The Mother nods, and Keith almost has to laugh at Shiro for asking. Clearly the tree or the Goddess or whoever doesn’t have an issue with them taking what they need. But it’s typical of Shiro to be conscientious and ask. 

“Thank you,” says Shiro. He steps forward and uses his metal hand to chip off some flakes. They shimmer in his hands like jagged jewels. 

“You honor us,” intones the Mother, and she bows to each of them in turn. 

They each bow back. 

It’s as simple as that, and, soon, they leave. 

***

“Sorry, guys, but I can do way better than all of you,” says Lance with a shrug and a smirk once they’re all back at the castle. 

“I don’t think your reflection counts,” says Pidge. 

“ _Hey!_ ”

Everyone dissolves into laughter, and they all walk together back into the castle, exhausted and pleased with the day’s work. Coran takes the flakes of diranium and Allura follows him, deep into the castle’s interior, to make whatever fix it is they need. 

Keith goes to shower, and not long after, the castle is up and running. Keith watches the Ryvians’ world slip away from them, a small, red planet, waltzing with two white moons, and then three dots, and then just one bright, small dot, and then nothing, just the vastness of space. He feels incomplete. They accomplished what they needed to accomplish, saved the day, survived once again. 

But Keith wanted something more. 

It’s been a long time since he’s let himself want something more. 

He goes to his room and flings himself on his bed. He thinks about going to the training room, but he’s easy to find there, and, if he’s out of his room, somebody might think he wants to engage in conversation. 

There’s a soft knock on his door. 

He considers not responding. But the choice is taken away from him, and the door opens with a quiet whoosh. Shiro steps inside. 

Keith sits up in his bed and stares at him, suddenly alert. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Shiro gives him a mild look. 

“I wanted to check on you. We had a long day.”

“All our days are long.” 

Shiro smiles, sweet and inflectionless. He sits on the edge of Keith’s bed, his hands in his lap. Keith watches with an animal wariness. 

“It’s not actually clear to me,” says Shiro, blushing faintly, keeping his gaze on his folded hands, “that the bonding ceremony was, uh, supposed to be romantic. I think we just interpreted it that way.” He blushes darker. “Or at least I interpreted it that way.” 

“I did, too,” says Keith, careful. 

Shiro looks at Keith once, quickly, then looks away. 

Keith frowns. “If they’d pushed anyone,” he says slowly, "I would have jumped. I would have saved them.”

Shiro looks up again. He watches Keith closely, and Keith feels himself go red under that intent and quiet gaze. 

“I know.” 

“And you would have, too. Because we’re Paladins. That’s what we do. That’s _all_ we do.” 

Shiro reaches across the bed and touches Keith’s hand cautiously. “I know,” he says again. 

Keith flushes more and falls silent, the words dead in his mouth. His chest is tight. He can’t meet Shiro’s eyes. 

Shiro squeezes his hand, and then lets go. He smiles, but he looks sad. 

“I just wanted to say thank you, Keith.” 

He gets up. Keith grabs his wrist. He can feel the hum of Shiro’s pulse. 

“You came after me first,” says Keith. 

Shiro pauses, one eyebrow raised. 

“You came after me first,” repeats Keith. He tightens his grip. “When I was fighting Zarkon and I couldn’t get Red to move.”

Shiro smiles, bemused. 

“Of course I got you, Keith.” His grin softens into something more genuine. “And I’m pretty sure you actually came after me first.” He mimics Keith’s voice, though not very well, “ _Shiro’s in trouble. I’m going in._ ”

Keith looks at him. “Okay. So we keep going in after each other. No matter what.” 

“No matter what,” repeats Shiro, solemn. 

It’s an echo of the oath they took earlier that day, but, somehow, this one feels more true. 

“You weren’t going to leave Allura behind, either,” points out Keith. 

“No,” says Shiro, very serious. “I won’t leave any of you behind. Not you, not Allura.” He smiles, trying to make Keith laugh. “Not even Lance.” 

“Right,” says Keith. He feels dizzy. They’re circling something and neither can quite reach to say what they mean to. Shiro’s pulse seems to pick up beneath his fingers. “But we already said that.” 

“We did,” says Shiro, and he looks, suddenly, unsure. 

It's very strange to see Shiro not look sure of himself. Even when Keith suspects Shiro doesn’t know if he’s making the right decision, he projects discipline and command anyway. Shiro doesn’t let other people see when he doesn’t know what he’s doing. 

“What happened?” asks Keith, looking up. “Back there?” 

He doesn’t know if he means during Allura’s rescue, or during the whole, awful year Shiro was lost. 

He thinks he means both. He watches Shiro’s eyes flicker as he goes through the same thought process. 

Shiro pulls his free arm – his Galra arm – reflexively to his chest in a protective curl. Keith stares at the arm, and then he stares at Shiro. 

It hits him then, how much Shiro is still hiding and how much he is still hurting, how vulnerable he really is. It hits him that there are things he won’t know and can’t know about Shiro, that even without the trauma Shiro has experienced, just being separate from him means there will be a gap, that Shiro isn’t even sure himself that he’s the same person he was before everything that happened to him. All of this hits him at once and pulls from him a tenderness. He’s not mad at Shiro, and he can’t make Shiro better. All he can do is convince Shiro that Keith never stopped – could never stop – caring for him. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it,” says Shiro finally, heavily. His eyes drop. 

Keith lets go of Shiro’s wrist and stands, and then he puts both hands on Shiro’s arm. His metal arm. Shiro looks back with an odd, world-tilting, vulnerable expression. 

“This doesn’t change anything,” says Keith, fiercely. “What happened to you – none of that matters. You’re still you. You’re still Shiro. I still…” He makes himself finish. “I still care about you. I still want to be with you.” 

“Be with me?” says Shiro, with blank incredulity. 

“Yes.” 

Shiro hesitates. “Even now?” 

“Why wouldn’t I now?” demands Keith. He moves his hands to Shiro’s face, and watches as Shiro’s eyes widen, then narrow. He’s never been so grateful for being so reckless, for being so stubborn once he’s set himself on a path. 

“You’re who I care about most,” Keith insists. “Being dead for a year doesn’t change that. What happened to you doesn’t change that. You’re my best friend. You’re – ” He takes a deep breath. “You’re who I want to be with.” 

“Keith, I – ”

Keith doesn’t let Shiro finish. He knows it’ll be something self-denying and noble. He just kisses him. 

It's terrible. Keith has to stand on his tiptoes and yank Shiro down to reach him, and he ends up just mashing his mouth awkwardly against Shiro’s. Shiro goes tense all over, his arms at his side. Keith thinks, _fuck_ , but he keeps going, tries to shift so at least the angle is better. 

And then Shiro laughs. 

Keith jerks away, breathing hard, chest hurting. His face blazes with embarrassed heat. He’s ready to bolt, and he steps away further, towards the door. 

“No, don’t.” Shiro reaches forward and grabs Keith by the shoulders. He pulls him back close. Keith is still ready to bolt. He doesn’t want to hear Shiro’s speech about how he’s sorry but he can’t. 

“Are you sure?” asks Shiro. 

“What?” says Keith, because he didn’t quite catch that. Because it isn’t what he expected Shiro to say.

“Are you sure?” repeats Shiro, voice tripping slightly. “That this is what you want?” 

Keith stares up at him, shocked. He feels like he’s made it incredibly clear that is what he wants. 

“Yes!” he says, and he nearly shouts it. 

Shiro laughs again, but his expression is fond and wondrous, less vulnerable, more sure.

“Okay,” he says softly. He takes a deep breath and shifts his hand so it cups Keith’s face. He tilts Keith’s face up. Keith experiences this all with an ecstatic paralysis.

“Me too,” adds Shiro, and he kisses him. 

It’s a slow and careful kiss, as if Shiro were still – still! – concerned about somehow fucking Keith up. But it also sends a cascade of chills through Keith. He shudders and leans up, wrapping his arms around the back of Shiro’s neck. Shiro moves his hands down Keith’s body until they rest at the small of Keith’s back. He pulls Keith close, and Keith burns with every point of contact. He presses into Shiro, his body responding like a thing all its own. 

Shiro deepens the kiss. He kisses with as much need as Keith feels. Keith makes a sound like an _oh_ that starts deep inside him and rises up, unbidden, uncontrolled. He clenches his hands in the fabric of Shiro’s shirt. Shiro presence overwhelms him. Keith has always been aware of exactly where Shiro was when they were both in a room together, has always felt pulled and compelled by Shiro’s particular gravity. And now he is at the center of it. There’s nothing outside the span of Shiro’s shoulders, shifting and warm beneath Keith’s hand, nothing outside Shiro’s hands on Keith’s hip, the shock of cold when Shiro’s metal hand slips, for a second, beneath Keith’s shirt, nothing but the press of Shiro’s mouth against his. 

Keith makes another unwilling noise and Shiro laughs against his mouth once more, but there’s a breathless edge there now. Keith bites his mouth gently and Shiro makes a noise in response this time – surprised, turned on. Keith pulls him away from the door, and since there’s not much room to move, tips back onto his bed, pulling Shiro with him. Shiro goes down with surprising ease, landing half on top of him. Keith bares his teeth in a wild grin. He feels lit up, powerful, like he does in the middle of a fight. Shiro props himself up on one elbow and looks down at Keith, his face is flushed, his eyes are dark, his expression rapt. Keith pulls him down and kisses his neck, his throat, his jaw, everywhere he can get to. There’s an ache in his body and a kicking need. 

“Keith,” says Shiro. “ _Keith_.”

He holds Keith’s jaw and turns his head, then kisses him. He holds Keith there. It’s a controlled kiss, slow and deep, an ocean current. Keith shudders. He presses up, tries to make it wilder, harder. He bites and licks until Shiro tightens his grip on Keith’s jaw and retakes control. 

They keep going like that, Keith pressing his advantage wherever he can, all attack, and Shiro responds by slowing down, drawing it out, making Keith tremble with the hooking force of his need. 

“Please,” Keith finds himself saying at one point, and Shiro pauses. He draws away, just slightly. His mouth is red. 

“No,” he says, and he looks, honestly and deeply, apologetic. “I’m sorry – I… Not yet. Is that okay? Not yet. This is fine. But.” 

Keith pulls away and blinks, dizzy. He feels like he’s deflating. 

“Uh,” is all he manages to say. Then he groans and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. His body twitches and demands. It’s hard to think. Shiro says nothing else. 

“All right,” says Keith, after a moment. “All right. Just… Let me… I need a minute. Another one.” 

“Yeah,” says Shiro, sounding just as dizzy as Keith is. Keith can feel the press of Shiro’s dick against his leg, and it’s comforting, at least, to know Shiro wants this just as much as he does, that he just, for his own Shiro reasons, wants to take this slow. Keith shifts away slightly – a distraction like _that_ won’t help – but presses his face into the crook of Shiro’s shoulder and neck. He can still smell the forest on Shiro. He keeps his face there and breathes deep and slow. Shiro rubs small circles into his back. 

They lie there for a long time, Shiro a living miracle beside him. 

Keith doesn’t know how to help Shiro, how to convince Shiro that Shiro is still, fundamentally, the person he was before the Kerberos mission: human, decent, brave, and kind. But maybe if he talks to Shiro, Shiro will talk to him. They can bridge the gap together. 

So lying on his side on his bed, between the wall and Shiro, their legs tangled together, Keith touches Shiro’s face, takes a deep breath, and starts to tell him about the year he missed.

**Author's Note:**

> Diranium. Need it for the nebulon boosters. No sir. Definitely did not search + replace for "mcguffin" at any point in this story. Anyway! Shout out to my delayed flight and the power outage at my parents' house for forcing me to finally finish this. Thanks for reading! Hope you had fun!


End file.
